


Drinking Companion

by Cinnamaldeide



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, The Big C (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bedelia Has Friends, Don’t copy to another site, Drinking, Lee Fallon Is A Sassy Muffin, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, No Will Graham, Obsessive Hannibal Lecter, Revised Version, Season/Series 01, aesthetic included
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamaldeide/pseuds/Cinnamaldeide
Summary: Bedelia knew that Hannibal had a way of always appearing at the most propitious moment.For the #EatTheRare fest
Relationships: Lee Fallon & Bedelia Du Maurier, Lee Fallon/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 18
Collections: EatTheRare 2019





	1. fine company

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justlikeyouimagined](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeyouimagined/gifts).



> This is partly Trikemily’s fault. Many thanks to [virdant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/virdant/) for having beta read this work, which is in fact a detour from my usual Hannibal/Will path but may all the same be included in _another_ book I’m planning to publish ❀

Despite her profession suggesting otherwise, Bedelia didn’t derive a whole lot of pleasure from social interactions or private conversations. In fact, she was rather prone to avoid such occurrences, in the most courteous manner, whenever feasible.

There were exceptions, of course. She befriended selected individuals, allowed their sphere of influence to collide with her own and affect her experiences, if only minimally. Some deftly muscled their way in to wreak havoc on her quiet existence, drawn by her stoic personality, while others shared with her a common interest.

Bedelia enjoyed drinking expensive wine in solitude.

It just so happened that Lee Fallon did as well.

They had first met in a discreet lounge bar with a pleasant atmosphere, suffused and vibrant. The man seemed cheerful, wore the kind of smile that spoke of undeserved suffering and arguably functional coping mechanisms.

He had offered her a cosmopolitan, and she hadn’t decline it.

In their subsequent encounters, it occurred to her that her impersonal, leisurely sessions with a good rosé, a decent book, and soft pillows to rest her legs, were curiously improved with the presence of another person.

It never occurred to her that a drinking companion would ever see her stolid defences lower in lackadaisical lassitude, but Bedelia found she could become  _ talkative _ given the right amount of alcohol.

“You know, when I saw you that first time, sharp heels and expensive perfume, you fooled me into thinking you were a poised person,” Lee began, filling her glass of wine with a practiced movement. “Silent and prim, looking unapproachable and haughty, as if nothing touched you.” He paused, a genial smirk on his lips. “Turns out you were only waiting for the right bartender to uncork you.”

Bedelia flaunted a tight smile. “I was only pensive, and wasn’t expecting anyone. I let you assume I was available as you let me assume you were interested.” She raised her glass in a brief toast. “We forgive each other’s flaws to continue enjoying our respective virtues,” she said, “puns included, luckily for you.”

He laughed lightly, a dulcet sound. The kind that gave Bedelia a comfort she rarely achieved elsewhere.

“You ought to expect some tease from me. You keep complaining about your patient,” he responded, serving himself generously. “Gotta keep these rendezvous amusing somehow.”

“Not a risk with our tolerance,” she said, dedicating a moment to scent her serving. “And I’m not complaining about my patient, Lee.” She took a sip. “That would be unprofessional.”

“You’re retired, aren’t you,” he noted.

Bedelia merely turned the wine in her glass, enjoyed its rich, dark colour.

“You talk about this patient of yours quite extensively,” he observed. “Your cellar is well stocked, and I’m sure you’re being paid awesomely to keep treating someone after you retired, but maybe you need to change your approach with this patient instead of depleting your supply of wine,” he added, getting comfortable on her sofa.

He meant well, Bedelia could tell. His apprehension was that of a friend.

“I need every single drop I ingest, rest assured,” she retorted. “I appreciate your suggestion, but there’s little that can be done about that one person who chose to ignore my retirement, and I intend to drown my scarce sufferance for their massive ego in whatever spirit you bring to my door.”

“What’s so tragic about them?”

“The amount of metaphorical nonsense that sprouts from that sharp mouth, I guess,” she confided, forgetting herself for a second. Unprofessional indeed.

“Boring. Sounds like a pain in the ass.” He smirked. “I’m into that.”

_ Naive creature_, she thought. Then again, Bedelia couldn’t presume on Hannibal’s behaviour outside of their appointments. Not that Bedelia had particularly minded her relationship with Hannibal, until her incident with Neal Frank.

Something fractured between them then. A line Bedelia has been reluctant to cross.

“I can tell they treasure my counsel, but I don’t think I’ve seen any therapeutic effect in the long term, rather,” she lingered, pensive. “I feel as if they’re trying to fashon a portrait of myself, replicate my posture and way of speaking perhaps. Not overtly scrutinizing me with magnifying lens, but still studying me from afar, clearly enough for me to notice.”

“Doesn’t seem like the typical patient,” Lee noted, visibly tenser than the previous minute. “Might be the case to involve someone to remind them you may not be comfortable with their attitude.” There was an edge of concern in his voice.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” she soothed him. “Not unless they show up at my house without a scheduled appointment, at the very least.”

Of course, her doorbell rang mere seconds after the statement.

Avoiding Lee’s intent gaze, Bedelia adjusted her skirt and steadied herself, then proceeded with measured steps towards her front door.

She smoothed her hair before opening it. There wasn’t much to be done about the scent of liquor on her breath. If she were to forgive a breach of doctor-patient relationship as blatant as she suspected, Hannibal could tolerate her mild inebriation.


	2. telling essence

It would have been disingenuous of Bedelia to expect that Hannibal wouldn’t broach the subject of her dear acquaintance during their following appointment. She just didn’t anticipate a direct approach from her long-standing patient and colleague, when she asked her ritual question at the beginning of their session,  _ What would you like to discuss?_

“I’d like to talk about Mr. Fallon, if you’re amenable,” Hannibal declared, placidly crossing one leg above the other.

She followed his example. “I’m amenable, provided that we do so in the awareness that we analyse your perception of him, not Mr. Fallon himself,” Bedelia conceded. In all likelihood, Hannibal didn’t require a reminder, but experience dictated her to tread carefully.

He nodded in assent. “Your friend left quite an impression on me,” he admitted, clasping his hands on his lap in a familiar gesture that suggested comfort.

Bedelia tracked the move with interest. “Mr. Fallon possesses an eclectic temperament. He often inspires conflicting emotions,” she said. “Some individuals prefer to keep their distance from him, some find him oddly charming.”

She didn’t need to ask whether Hannibal identified with the former, the latter, or both.

Hannibal needn’t ask either.

“The perks of an exuberant personality gifted with a clever tongue,” Hannibal agreed. “Not everyone is inclined to appreciate the kind of humour he favours, nor his unbridled exuberance. He’s lively and engaging, almost forcibly so.”

_ Loud and feisty_, Bedelia read between the lines. A fitting description for Lee.

“He’s also rather protective of you,” he added, which would have been admittedly difficult to deny.

After Bedelia’s disquieting observation, before she could open the door, Lee had approached her from behind, placed a warm, large palm on her waist, and remained close to her as she revealed her guest, gently swirling the wine in his glass.

The casual gesture had soothed her, given her reassurance through physical contact. She hadn’t realised her shoulders were tense, nor that the display of intimacy might have been designed to dissuade an undesired suitor.

The previous night, Hannibal had expected to find her alone when he knocked on her door with an elegant plate bearing  _ tête de veau en sauce verte_. The three of them ate plentifully nonetheless.

“It was the first time you saw me in the company of a man other than yourself,” she observed. “How did that make you feel?”

Bedelia had enjoyed the singular confrontation between the two of them, the way Lee had asserted his intrigue in their relationship and kept his stance when Hannibal, understandably out of his depth given the circumstances, had answered with honesty, before inquiring after their own.

“We share a passion,” Lee had volunteered.

_ Interesting manner to frame it_, she had thought.

“I felt like I was peeking behind the curtain of your psychiatrist mask,” Hannibal revealed. “Since you refuse invitations to my dinner table, I thought that was the only way I could cook for you, but it didn’t occur to me that my treat could become an intrusion.”

Bedelia politely feigned to believe his contrition.

“I realised it had been bold of me to involve you in my indulgent whim,” he said. “But Mr. Fallon turned what I feared to be a gauche situation into a lovely evening.”

The pleasure of fine company and tasteful wine had overcome the initial friction, Lee’s gleeful laughter had replaced the lingering awkwardness and lifted their spirits. Another full glass had been emptied by each of them before Hannibal announced he wouldn’t further overstay his welcome.

“I felt at ease when I crossed the threshold to reach my car.”

He sounded like that surprised him.

Lee’s flirtatious beam and low voice still reverberated in his mind, she surmised. Her own was similarly captivated by the reminiscence of his soft giggle.

Bedelia found Lee charming, despite his terrible puns and undue Buddhist quotes, but was naught but intellectually attracted to him. Hannibal, on the other hand, possessed that one requisite Lee sought in a partner.

She suspected Hannibal had noticed as much, at some point. Lee’s interest hadn’t been exactly subtle.

“I’d like to meet again, but that would only prove I haven’t learned my lesson,” he declared. “Instead I’d ask you to convey a message to him, if you please.”

She pointedly didn’t mention that Lee, upon his own departure, had proffered an embarrassing amount of appreciative comments on Hannibal’s ample chest and, quote marks,  _ delectable butt_. “By all means,” she acquiesced.

Hannibal faltered for the briefest moment, before stating, “I have a particularly keen sense of smell, it has favoured me in a number of occasions: from naming specific perfumes to know a teacher of mine had stomach cancer before he knew himself.” He paused, tone serious, hard like a violin string. “I noticed a familiar scent on Mr. Fallon’s bouquet, which compels me to suggest he makes an appointment with a doctor specialised in oncology without delay.”

Bedelia thought about their proximity, when Hannibal bade farewell and Lee had leaned forward and whispered something presumably flirtatious in his ear. The way Hannibal had closed his eyes, inhaled deeply and leisurely.

She shuddered.

“I’ll tell him at the end of your hour,” she decided, her mind quietly unraveling the information, disrupting it into smaller bits for a better assimilation.

She saw Hannibal wearing a coat in a hospital, surrounded with odours powerful enough to incapacitate anyone else with his sensitivity, and then she saw the brilliant, occasionally crude remarks Lee had given him, almost defiant, almost insolent.

Hannibal despited ill-mannered individuals.

And Lee was prone to be cast as a rude person even without ingesting copious amounts of wine along the night.

She struggled not to call him before Hannibal left. She reminded herself to give Lee his number, in their upcoming meeting. He had in fact mentioned he wanted to experiment with more adventurous sex.

**Author's Note:**

> Lee doesn’t die because Hannibal catches the cancer in time and they live happily even after, as far as I’m concerned, canon can kiss my ass.  
> I wasn’t kidding about the book. Let me know if you’re interested, or if you spot errors I should fix.  
> [Find me elsewhere](https://cinnamaldeide.carrd.co/). [Post on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Cinnamaldeide/status/1214293559840514048?s=20).


End file.
